


only want you (and us)

by thespacenico



Series: klancemas 2018 [26]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Meet the Family, New Years Eve, SO MUCH FLUFF, The End, hand-holding, keith doesn't mean to be good with kids but they just love him, kiss on the beach, lance talks about keith a lot, new years day, surprise visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 16:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18196886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespacenico/pseuds/thespacenico
Summary: klancemas day thirty-one: midnight kiss





	only want you (and us)

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is the end. 
> 
> I'm gonna be a little sentimental for a second here because it's currently 3am and I started this series on December 1st and I can't believe that something I intended to start out so simple grew into the series that it is now. It basically took me four months to write and honestly? It was totally worth it. 
> 
> I want to say thank you to anyone who's read it all the way through, and especially to those who have been here from the start and stuck with it. You've all been so kind and encouraging through all of it and I'm not sure I would've had the motivation to finish it if it hadn't been for some of you, so thank you!
> 
> This has honestly been a journey haha but I've made some really great friends along the way. I hope you enjoy this last part ♡
> 
>  
> 
> [this song is sad and doesn't reflect the part lol but it's where i got the title from](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnOaL4PFSL8)

“What am I doing.”

Keith shifts restlessly back and forth on his feet and tightens his grip on the bag slung over his shoulder and stares up at the vast board full of flights coming in and out of the airport and tries to drown out the sounds and feeling of too many people bustling around him.

“This was a bad idea,” he mutters to himself, and then scowls at the board because how in the world is he supposed to find his flight buried between all the others crowded onto the screen. “This is a bad—this is crazy. This is—what am I doing?”

He finally spots his flight somewhere in the very middle of all the tiny numbers and letters and takes off as soon as he checks his gate number, still muttering to himself all the way.  

He calls Shiro. “Is this crazy?”

 _“Hello, Keith,”_ Shiro responds on the other end, sounding much too amused for Keith’s present situation.

“Shiro,” he scowls. From the corner he’s managed to tuck himself into with his things while he waits to board his flight, he clutches the phone to his ear and watches the throngs of people rushing about the vast stretches of hallway, in and out of gates, talking rapidly on their phones and pulling their luggage along and carrying half-eaten sandwiches or half-drunk smoothies. “Is this crazy?” he repeats.

_“Keith—”_

“This is crazy,” Keith decides, pushing a hand through his hair and ignoring the funny look someone shoots him as they pass by. “Okay—this is crazy. Shiro, should I come back? Wait, will you come back—”

 _“Keith,”_ Shiro interrupts with a laugh. _“Relax, kiddo. Adam and I just left the airport anyway, so now isn’t really the best time for second thoughts.”_

Keith makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and Shiro laughs again into his ear. “But what if I get there and he doesn’t—it hasn’t even been a week, am I being too needy—”

 _“Stop overthinking!”_ Adam calls from somewhere in the background, presumably from behind the steering wheel.

Shiro hums in agreement. _“Adam says—”_

“I heard what Adam said,” Keith sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He startles at the sound of the overhead speakers nearby crackling to life. _“Attention, all passengers for Flight 2765 to Cuba, we are now boarding beginning with Group A. Please have your tickets ready at the front.”_

 _“Sounds like you’d better get going,”_ Shiro says, voice softening a bit.

Keith swallows down all of the uncertainty swirling around in his chest and glances down at the wrinkled plane ticket in his other hand. “Yeah.”

 _“Don’t worry about it,”_ Shiro goes on. _“You’re going to have a good time. Veronica’s picking you up on the other side?”_

Keith winces. When he had decided he might want to fly to Cuba to surprise Lance for New Years’, he hadn’t really known who else to ask other than Veronica. She’d been completely on board with the idea— _oh thank god, Lance has been complaining about not seeing you nonstop and it’s_ really _starting to get on my nerves—_ and had been more than willing to help him make a plan. Which is great, only Keith is still slightly afraid of her, especially now that he’s dating her younger brother. “Yeah.”

_“Good. Text us when you land, okay?”_

“Okay, _dad,”_ Keith mutters, although he makes sure to make a mental note to do just that.

_“And have fun. Everything will be great, Keith.”_

Keith takes a deep breath in. Deep breath out. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He pauses, watching as the second group gets up to board the flight. “Thanks, Shiro.”

_“Love you, kiddo.”_

“Love you too,” Keith responds, almost catching himself off guard by how easily the words roll off his tongue. Huh. Maybe he’s getting better at this whole _feelings_ thing.

He quickly ends the call and shoves his handheld into his pocket before shouldering his bag once again, dragging himself out of his corner and forcing himself into the remaining group of people still waiting to board.

The flight is—fine. Long. Quiet. Keith sits in his crowded seat and stares out the window and tries not to visibly freak out about the fact that he’s flying to another country to visit his boyfriend for New Year’s where he’ll be picked up in a little airport by his boyfriend’s older sister who he may or may not still find to be very, _extremely_ intimidating in her own Veronica McClain way—anyway. The flight is fine.

Three hours since liftoff, and Keith can’t seem to stop bringing his hand up to tug at the orange woven necklace Romelle made for him, and curl his fingers around the seashell Lance gave him just a week prior. The ocean glitters underneath them, reflecting the sunlight against the waves in dazzling patterns that make it easy for Keith to understand why Lance misses it when he’s been away for too long. He loosens his grasp on the necklace and peers down at it.

_I want you to know that you always have a home in Cuba, too. With me._

That’s really all Keith’s been going on. Assuming that he hasn’t grossly misunderstood or misinterpreted Lance’s intentions in giving him the shell or telling him he has a home in Cuba in the first place, he thinks—hopes, desperately—that he isn’t making some kind of terrible mistake. He _did_ ask Keith to come meet his family, but maybe he’d envisioned the soon-to-be-had interactions occurring on his own terms, and here Keith is, ruining his plans.

“What if I’m just intruding?” Keith had asked, restlessly pacing back and forth in the living room of Adam and Shiro’s apartment. “I basically invited myself, what if—am I intruding?”

“I thought you already had all of this planned all of this out with his sister,” Adam responded, hardly looking up from his book from where he sat on the couch. “She seemed to think it was a good idea.”

“Well _yeah,_ but—”

“Takashi,” Adam called into the other room. “Please come try to console your half-brother-child person and tell him that he’s being unnecessarily dramatic and anxious.”

“He’s yours too!” Shiro called back from somewhere on the other side of the wall.

“He was yours first!”

“You guys are _not. Helping.”_ Keith gritted out.

A sigh and a thump, and then Shiro was entering the room and planting his hands on Keith’s shoulders before he had the chance to shrink away. “Keith.”

“What,” Keith mumbled.

Shiro squeezed. “You’re being unnecessarily dramatic.”

“Thank you,” Adam muttered into his book.

“And anxious.”

Keith huffed. “I’m just–”

“Freaking out.”

“I’m not—”

“Panicking?”

Keith fixed Shiro with the most intense death glare he could muster and Shiro laughed, loud and bright into the dimness of their little living room. “Keith, honestly. Everything’s going to be _fine._ He’ll be glad to see you.”

“I mean, I hope so, but—” Keith growled in frustration, shoulders sinking under the weight of Shiro’s hands. “Are you sure I’m not, like, going too fast or something? He said he wanted me to meet his family but—I don’t know how soon he meant—”

“Keith,” Shiro said again, softer this time. Keith reluctantly snapped his mouth shut, pressing his lips together and glaring at the floor. A moment passed. Shiro showed no sign of loosening his grasp. “Hey.” Keith only just barely raised his head enough to look up at Shiro again, who smiled in the rare way that was _not_ teasing or annoying or borderline infuriating. He finally let go of one shoulder and lifted a finger, and Keith closed his eyes with a sigh as he pressed the tip to the small shell hanging around his neck, feeling simultaneously light as a feather and heavy as a brick against his chest.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Keith opened his eyes and let his eyes trail down to where Shiro’s finger is laid against the shell. “I think so.”

“You either know it or you don’t, Keith,” Adam deadpanned, although he still couldn’t be bothered to look up from his book.

Keith shot him a look over Shiro’s arm and Shiro huffed another laugh. “Keith, trust me. This is exactly what he meant. It’ll be great, don’t worry about it.”

“Even though you’re ditching us for New Years’ to be with your boyfriend,” Adam muttered.

“Like I wanna be here with a recently engaged couple on New Years’!” Keith protested, finally escaping Shiro’s hold and ducking away. “I’m not about to third wheel for your makeout session when it hits midnight.”

Adam finally snapped his book down, eyes squinting but the hint of a smile on his mouth. “You’re literally flying to another country to make out with _your_ boyfriend, so I’m pretty sure you have no room to talk—”

“I’m flying to another country to surprise him!”

“And to make out with him!”

Keith crossed his arms. “That’s just—an added bonus.”

“Oh my god,” Shiro said, and Adam laughed and went back to his book and Keith marched into the kitchen to make himself some coffee with too much sugar.

It’s mid-afternoon, by the time that Keith’s plane touches down. The sun is high in the sky, casting the majority of Keith’s view through his tiny window in a hazy summer glow that stretches on as far as the eye can see. His line of vision is peppered with palm trees, and birds, and little cars and buses travelling the narrow streets until they disappear behind what Keith assumes is the airport.

He rubs the shell between his thumb and forefinger one more time—for good luck, for reassurance, he’s not quite sure—and then he’s being swept into the small crowd of people filing off the plane.

The airport is small. Even so, Keith feels lost the second he walks through the gate, bag slung over his shoulder, looking very out of place in tattered jeans and a leather jacket despite the sunny warmth outside. He’s not sure where he’s supposed to be picked up, so he finds a small bench nearby, hovering for a moment before sitting down and pulling out his handheld.

 

 **Keith K > T. Shirogane ** and **Adam W.  
**December 31st, 5:21pm

 **Keith K:** made it to cuba

 **T. Shirogane:** go get him tiger

 **Adam W:** don’t do anything we wouldn’t do

 

Keith snorts and rolls his eyes before opening up another message thread. 

 

 **Keith K > Veronica McClain  
**December 31st, 5:23pm

 **Keith K:** just landed

 

He fiddles with it for a little before setting it down beside him, only for it to buzz and for him to pick it right back up.

 

 **Veronica McClain:** got held up, be there soon  
lance is WAY too nosy, as i’m sure you’re aware of by now  
follow the signs outside and i’ll swing around

 

Keith tries not to smile at the second message as he looks up at some of the signs hanging overhead, arrows pointing in every which direction alongside various Spanish words that Keith definitely does not understand. He catches a word or a phrase here and there that he knows as he scans them, until he finds one that says _SALIDA_ in bold capital letters, with a large arrow pointing in the opposite direction from Keith.

No one pays him much attention as he weaves through the rest of the airport and eventually manages to stumble outside onto the pavement, squinting against the sun and the incoming noise of wheels squeaking and another plane taking off and people calling to one another from across the parking lot nearby. He finds another bench and sits down, trying his very best not to look as awkward and nervous and jittery as he’s feeling.

He checks his handheld again, just in case. Watches the people walking in and out through the doors, pulling along their suitcases and shouldering their bags and climbing in and out of cars. By the time he realizes that he has no idea what kind of car he should even be looking for, there are two loud honks that startle him out of his sudden panic before he really even has time to slip into it.

“Hey there!” Keith blinks as a red truck pulls up to the curb, window rolled down to reveal Veronica behind the driver’s seat, arm tossed over the steering wheel and looking very much amused. “You look lost,” she calls.

Keith more or less scrambles to his feet and approaches the truck, clutching the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “I mean. I think I’m in the right place,” he responds, trying for a smile despite the skittish energy shooting through his nerves. “Thanks for coming to pick me up.”

Veronica waves a hand dismissively. “Someone had to do it. And even I wouldn’t subject you to the torture of being left alone with Marco and Luis.”

“Um,” Keith says, and Veronica laughs and motions for him to get inside.

“I had to bring another passenger along,” she starts as Keith opens the door and tosses his bag into the floor under his seat. “I hope you don’t mind.”

And suddenly there’s another tiny body poking their head between the seats, eyes bright and face cracked open with a toothy grin. “Hi Keith!”

Keith freezes. “Oh—uh. Hello. Hi. Um…Sylvio?”

He isn’t sure if he appreciates Veronica’s valiant effort not to laugh at his stammering or if he’d rather her just go ahead and get it out of her system. “Very impressive. Have you been brushing up on the McClain family tree?”

“Lance shows me a lot of pictures,” Keith manages, offering Sylvio a tentative wave before finally climbing into the passenger seat.

“Did you really come all the way here just to see Uncle Leo?” Sylvio asks, little hands grasping either side of Keith’s headrest and leaning into his space.

“Siéntate, Sylvio,” Veronica chides, pushing him back with a hand to the face.

“Well did he?” Sylvio pouts, reluctantly sitting back in his seat.

“Yes, now put your seat belt back on or we’ll be late for dinner.”

He obeys, fumbling a little with the belt before it clicks into place and then immediately turning his attention back to Keith. “Keith, do you love Uncle Leo?”

Keith chokes on air and starts coughing rather violently into his fist, and Veronica snorts as she shifts the gear into drive. “Buckle up, pal.” She pauses briefly, glancing down at the single bag between Keith’s feet. “Is that all you brought?”

“Yeah,” Keith wheezes.

Veronica shakes her head and sighs as she pulls away from the curb and Keith clears his throat so he can breathe again. “Boys,” she mutters.

Sylvio and Keith make eye contact for a moment in the rearview mirror. Keith just shrugs, and Sylvio starts giggling and Keith can’t help but smile as some of his nervous energy instantly dissipates.

“So how’s the family?” Veronica asks as she navigates them through the bustling airport traffic.

It takes a second for Keith to process. “Oh! Good, they’re—good. Just busy planning wedding stuff.”

“Have they picked out a date yet?”

“Not yet. They’re thinking about the summer.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Keith tries not to fidget in his seat. Sylvio seems to be watching them curiously from the backseat, eyes flicking back and forth between them. Veronica shoots Keith a knowing look out of the corner of her eyes and smirks. “You don’t need to be intimidated by me, you know.”

Keith laughs nervously, splaying his hands out over his knees. “No, I—sorry. I guess I’ve been kind of expecting for you to give me some kind of—uh. Talk.”

Veronica’s smile grows. “Oh don’t worry, I would have. Only Lance has made it pretty clear that he’d personally sabotage me if I ever did.”

“Oh,” Keith manages.

“Not that I’m scared of him or anything,” Veronica goes on, eyes remaining diligently on the road. “But I figured that if Lance didn’t get a talk from Shiro, it wouldn’t be very fair to give you one.”

“Gee, thanks,” Keith mutters.

“Is Mr. Shirogane really your brother?” Sylvio asks, grasping the edge of his seat and kicking his feet a little.

“Shiro?” Keith taps his fingers on his knees, grateful for the sudden change in conversation. “Uh, yeah. Not by blood, but yeah, he’s my brother.”

“That’s so cool,” Sylvio breathes, looking wide-eyed and starstruck from Keith’s view in the rearview mirror. “I wish I had a brother like Mr. Shiro.”

“You like your familia just the way it is,” Veronica protests light-heartedly.

“Well _yeah,”_ he sighs with all the childish exasperation his little body can muster. “But Uncle Leo had posters of Mr. Shiro when _he_ was little!”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up and he twists around to look at him. “He had what now?”

Veronica starts laughing, almost startling Keith with how similar it sounds to Lance’s laughter. Yes, they’re definitely related. “Oh yeah, Lance was totally obsessed with him.”

“I mean, I already knew that but— _posters?”_

“What color are your eyes?” Sylvio continues, apparently already bored with the topic. Keith turns back to him and blinks before lifting a hand and pushing the hair out of his eyes.

“I don’t know, what color do _you_ think they are?”

Sylvio leans forward and squints, humming thoughtfully. “I dunno. Uncle Leo says they look like the color of a gemstone that hasn’t been discovered yet.”

“Oh really?” Keith’s mouth twitches up into a smile while he drops his hand. “What else does he say about me?”

Veronica huffs a laugh. “Careful what you wish for,” she warns, but Sylvio’s eyes have already lit up as he sits straight up in his seat.

“He says you’re like a space pirate!”

Keith snorts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! ‘Cuz you have a space wolf and a sword and a cool scar.”

Keith points at his scar. “He thinks it’s cool?”

Sylvio nods enthusiastically. “He says it makes you look bada—”

“Ay!” Veronica says loudly, shooting him a stern look in the rearview mirror. “Watch your tongue, niño.”

“Uncle Leo said it first!”

“Then maybe I’ll have to have a little talk with ‘Uncle Leo’ at the house,” she says, by way of ending the discussion.

Sylvio folds his arms over his chest and pouts, but only for a moment before he makes eye contact with Keith again and grins, waving him closer conspiratorially. Keith tilts his head, and Sylvio cups his hands over his mouth and leans toward his ear and whispers (or tries to, anyway): “He says it makes you look badass.”

“Sylvio!”

_“What?”_

 

❆ ❆ ❆

 

By the time they arrive at the house, the sun is still out and Keith thinks he’s starting to understand why Lance gets homesick so often. Because there hasn’t been a single dull moment in the car since they left the airport, and Varadero is lively and beautiful, and he can imagine Lance wandering the streets and the little fruit markets, all tan skin and bright eyes and windswept hair.

Not to mention, the beach is their backyard. Keith catches glimpses of it as Veronica is driving them up the half-sand, half-rock path to their home, blue waves glistening in the sunlight and tossing in the wind and crashing silently against the shore.

His heart leaps in his chest when they finally reach the top of their little hill, where the McClains’—where _Lance’s—_ house sits, looking small and cozy and homey against the vast blue sky and ocean and expanse of sand beyond. _Lance is in there,_ he thinks, and his heart skips another couple beats and his palms itch with the need to throw the passenger door open and bolt inside to see him, but he manages to stay put.

Veronica parks them outside and kills the engine. “Bienvenido a nuestra casa, Keith.”

“Thanks, I think,” Keith responds, still staring outside toward where the front door is propped open, the following screen door swaying a little in the wind.

He nearly tumbles out of the truck when the passenger door suddenly opens without warning and Sylvio appears, looking up at him eagerly. “I can take your bag,” he offers, pointing at the duffel tucked between Keith’s feet.

“Oh, that’s okay—”

“Let him have this one,” Veronica interrupts, already climbing out from her side of the truck.

So Keith lets Sylvio take his bag. He pulls the strap over his head and wobbles a little but he beams up at Keith so he resists the urge to pick him up and carry him inside himself. His heart is racing from anticipation as he trails behind Sylvio and Veronica up the rest of the path and to the door, following suit when they kick their shoes off on the porch before stepping into what he assumes to be the living room.

Veronica says something to Sylvio while Keith is looking around curiously, taking in his surroundings. He can hear the pitter-patter of Sylvio’s steps up the nearby wooden staircase, and voices drifting through the house, and the occasional creak of the walls that actually sounds more comforting than anything. There’s something—something that smells really, _really_ good—cooking, or maybe baking, in the kitchen. A small sofa is backed up against the far wall, bookshelves lining the other, both the shelves and open spaces on the wall decorated with family pictures and portraits, some of which Keith has already seen in a smaller, more blurry form on the screen of Lance’s handheld.

“Okay.” Veronica’s voice jolts Keith out of his trance and back to reality. “Let’s go find—”

“Vee!” Keith’s heart practically stops at the sound of Lance’s voice from just the other side of the wall. “S’that you?”

“Dios mío,” Veronica mutters. “Ven aquí, I have a surprise for you!”

“Mami!” And Keith stares as Lance finally appears in the threshold, head turned to call over his shoulder and one hand leaning against the wall, bright yellow tank top exposing tanned shoulders dusted with freckles that Keith doesn’t think he’s ever seen before and very nearly makes his breath catch in his throat. “Veronica ha vuelto—”

And then he turns, and his eyes land on Keith rooted in place at the doorway and he freezes, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open. They both stand there like that for a moment, silent and unmoving, staring at one another like neither of them is quite sure what exactly is happening.

Keith’s first thought: _This was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistake—_

His second thought: _I’m going to kiss every single one of those freckles._

Lance finds his voice first, which Keith didn’t even realize he’d missed until he hears it. “Keith?”

Keith snaps himself out of his stupor and opens his mouth. Closes it. “Hey,” he says timidly, suddenly very aware of the shell weighing against his chest.

Lance gapes at him. “Wh—Keith?” he repeats, blinking. “You—you’re in my house.”

Veronica snorts.

“I—yeah,” Keith manages, heart still flipping wildly from the sight of Lance looking just as bright and beautiful as always in his home. “I am.”

“In Cuba,” Lance continues, almost as if to clarify for himself. “You’re in—Keith, are you lost? This is Cuba. You’re in Cuba.”

Keith tries not to die. He glances at Veronica, who just shrugs. “That’s what my plane ticket says.”

“You _flew_ here?”

“That’s what planes do,” Veronica says dryly. “You know. Fly.”

Lance keeps gaping. Keith shrinks.

Is Lance—mad? He’s surprised, obviously, which was sort of the point but—other than that Keith isn’t sure how to gauge his reaction. Because his eyes are still blown wide, and his jaw is still unhinged, and he still hasn’t said anything else, why hasn’t he said anything else, _why is he just staring—_

Lance turns to Veronica, after a long, painstaking moment of silence. “I think you should leave.”

Veronica drops her head back with a sigh. “Thank you,” she mutters, and Keith watches as she promptly breezes past him and then Lance and into what Keith thinks is the kitchen.

And no sooner has Keith looked back to Lance than suddenly Lance is crossing the space between them and squishing his face between his hands and kissing him. Keith makes a noise of surprise and grabs onto the front of Lance’s shirt to steady himself, and he’s hardly had the chance to kiss back before Lance is pulling away with a happy sigh of his own.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Surprise?” Keith says, still gripping Lance’s shirt in his fingers and feeling a little dazed.

Lance lets his hands slide down to rest on his shoulders, brow furrowing confusedly. “What… are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.” Keith clears his throat. “I just wanted to see you.”

Lance blinks at him, and then his mouth curls up into a smile and he loops his arms around Keith’s neck. “What a coincidence,” he hums, and Keith can’t help but laugh as he leans back in for another kiss.

They’re interrupted by the pitter-patter of Sylvio coming back down the stairs, jumping the last step and landing with a thud on the floor as Keith and Lance snap apart. “Uncle Leo! Can I sleepover with you and Keith tonight?”

Keith bites his lip and smiles as Lance chuckles, bending over as Sylvio runs to him and easily lifting him up like they’ve probably done dozens and dozens of times before. “We’ll see, chiquito.”

“I told Keith that you said he’s a space pirate!” Sylvio says happily, hardly even batting an eye when Lance kisses the side of his head.

Lance’s face flushes a little and his eyes flick toward Keith, smiling sheepishly. “Oh! Uh, that’s great, Sylvio.”

“He also told me about the posters,” Keith raises an eyebrow, and Lance freezes and Sylvio giggles.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Keith and Sylvio share a knowing look. “Mhm,” Keith says unconvincingly, and Sylvio giggles some more and Keith finds himself smiling again.

 _“Anyway,”_ Lance says pointedly, shooting Sylvio a squinty side-eye. “Do you… wanna come meet everyone?” He clears his throat and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “My mom’s making dinner.”

“That’d be nice,” Keith agrees, even though his heart twists nervously in his chest at the thought of meeting the entirety of Lance’s family all at once.

Sylvio tries to wriggle out of Lance’s arms and Lance lets him, following behind with Keith as he scampers into the kitchen. Keith wonders if Lance can see the nervousness on his face, because he reaches for Keith’s hand and offers a reassuring smile just before they step inside.

Keith learns quickly that Lance’s family is—touchy. Affectionate. The minimal amount of attention that Keith received during a select portion of his childhood is pretty much made up for in a large number of hugs, despite having only just met the majority of them. He tries to fully memorize everyone’s names and he tries to remember to smile a lot and hug back instead of stand awkwardly in the middle of a much gentler version of a moshpit. Lance just beams at him the whole time.

At some point Keith gets trapped between Marco and Luis while Lance is preoccupied helping his mom with something on the stove, one arm each wrapped around Keith’s shoulders just a _little_ too tightly and both smiles just a _little_ too big and from the way Veronica is snickering from her place at the table with Rachel and Lisa, he’s pretty sure he knows what’s going on.

“So, Keith,” Marco starts, patting his shoulder. “How’d you guys meet?”

“Um,” says Keith. He clears his throat. “It’s—kind of a long story—”

“There’ll be plenty of time for stories after dinner,” Luis—who is decidedly much more intimidating than Marco—assures him. “We’d love to hear it.”

“Lance is probably better at telling stories than I am,” Keith manages.

Luis laughs, loud and hearty, and thumps him on the back. “Good answer.”

“Thank you,” Keith wheezes.

Marco lowers his voice and both he and Luis lean in. “Have you dropped the L-bomb yet?”

“L-bomb,” Keith echoes, at which point Lance comes to his rescue.

“Alright guys, very funny,” Lance says pointedly, planting both hands on Keith’s back and pushing him out of their grasp. “Go torture someone else, would you? I’m gonna go show him around the house.”

“Show him around, he says,” Marco hums, as Luis laughs again and Lance shoots them a look over his shoulder before dragging Keith back into the living room.

“They seem nice,” Keith tries.

 _“Seem_ is the key word,” Lance huffs, and Keith laughs.

 

❆ ❆ ❆

 

It’s not too long before dinner is supposed to be ready, so they don’t go too far.

Lance takes Keith out onto the porch, where they’re followed by both Sylvio and Nadia because _Uncle Leo said I could braid your hair someday_ and _Uncle Leo says you can draw._

“You talk about me a lot, huh?” Keith asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy,” Lance mutters, but he’s already accepting the markers that Nadia is waving up at him.

“You think I’m pretty.”

“Can I braid your hair?” Sylvio asks, tugging at Keith’s sleeve. “Uncle Leo says you look nice when he braids your hair.”

Lance just sighs.

All of which results in Keith sitting on the front steps with Nadia to draw while Lance helps Sylvio braid his hair from behind. By the time that Rachel finds them to haul them inside for dinner, Keith is patting Lance’s back and Lance is crying because Nadia drew a family portrait that includes him and Keith standing hand-in-hand front and center.

The dining room is—overwhelming. In a good way that Keith isn’t sure he knew was even possible. Because it’s loud, and everyone is talking over each other but also to each other, and Keith realizes maybe there’s more than one kind of family. Like Shiro and Adam, and Team Voltron, and Krolia and Romelle, and now, Keith supposes, Lance’s family. All different, but the same.

Lance’s parents and Rachel and Lisa are setting the table, and Nadia is holding Keith’s hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world and taking little sips of her juice while Luis tries to fend Marco away from a plate of steaming tortillas when the doorbell rings, light and tinny in the din of the room.

Veronica shoots up out of her seat. “I got it.”

Lance watches her go, eyes narrowed suspiciously from where he’s seated on Keith’s other side. “She’s acting weird.”

“Hm?” Keith hums, smiling as Nadia pokes at his fingers.

“Veronica,” Lance clarifies, still frowning after her. “She’s been constantly checking her phone since we came back inside.”

“Are you still waiting on someone?”

“Not that _I_ know of—”

Veronica pokes her head back around the wall, cheeks tinted an uncharacteristically shade of pink and a hopeful smile on her face. “Hey, everyone? There’s someone I’d like you all to meet.”

And then she steps back into the dining room, and Keith looks up from Nadia just in time to see a familiar figure appear, nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and standing hand-in-hand with Veronica.

He thinks maybe his mouth drops open. Lance’s definitely does.  

She clears her throat, shifting her weight to her other side as her gaze sweeps around the room. “Hello,” she starts, and then her eyes fall on Keith and she freezes, face paling considerably. “Keith?”

It’s silent for a moment. Nadia is looking back and forth between the four of them, intrigued. Acxa, on the other hand, looks like she’s about ready to bolt, but as always Lance is the first to recover. He squawks. _“Acxa?”_

Acxa starts a little and rips her gaze away from Keith toward Lance, who can’t seem to stop gawking. Veronica looks particularly pleased with herself. “Oh—hello, uh, Lance—”

“But—” Lance sputters, struggling to form a sentence. “You—are you two—”

“Oh my _god,”_ Keith finally chokes out.

“So you all know each other, do you,” Rachel sighs, propping her chin in her hand.

Lance is still trying to process, apparently. “But you guys are—you actually— _huh?”_

“What?” Veronica says defensively.

“Veronica!” Lance squeaks.

_“What?”_

“You actually did it,” Keith breathes, hardly even noticing that Nadia has finally let go of his hand to lean against the tabletop and peer curiously at their new visitor because he’s too busy trying to hold back his laughter. “You actually—”

“Keith, please,” Acxa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking properly humiliated.

“Did what?” Veronica and Lance say together.

“What are you even doing here?” Acxa asks with poorly disguised exasperation.

“Lance,” Keith responds.

“Me,” Lance answers at the same time, and then barrels on despite Acxa’s bewildered expression. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“What do you think, Leandro,” Veronica sighs.

“It’s _very_ nice to meet you,” Lance’s mother intervenes at last, easily taking Acxa’s arm and offering a warm smile. “You’re just in time for dinner. Acxa, is it? Veronica has told us a lot about you.”

“She has?” Lance demands.

 

❆ ❆ ❆

 

Dinner goes well. If anything, Keith is glad that Acxa is here, because at the very least it means he’s not the only one being pummelled with questions. He gets to hear about how Kolivan and the Blade are doing, and hide his smirk behind his glass when Lance’s dad asks Acxa how she and Veronica got together. Acxa’s version of the story doesn’t give him any credit, but he decides not to complain.

The house is no less lively as the evening wears on. The sun goes down but spirits are still high, although Acxa sighs a lot because Keith can’t stop laughing and Lance and Veronica still don’t get why. Sylvio and Nadia insist on staying up with the grown-ups until it hits midnight, but they fall asleep around ten fifteen and Lance and Keith have to carry them to bed.

Sylvio stirs a little against Keith’s shoulder as he’s following Lance up the stairs, Nadia tucked gingerly against his chest. “Keith?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Hey,” Keith murmurs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Sylvio doesn’t seem to care too much. He rubs his eyes and yawns, settling his head in the crook of Keith’s neck as they walk down the hallway to Lance’s room. “You didn’answer my question.”

“Which question?”

“D’you love Uncle Leo?”

Keith smiles, and watches as Lance pulls his sheets back, and carefully lowers Nadia onto the bed and leans down to kiss her forehead and whisper goodnight. “Yeah. I do.”

Sylvio makes a small noise of contentment. “Me too.”

“I think they like you,” Lance whispers in the hallway, after they’ve put Sylvio to bed with Nadia and closed the door behind them.

“Only because they like you,” Keith whispers back. “And you like me. They like me through association.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lance responds, but he’s smiling too big to mean it. And then he tries to pull Keith in for a kiss, but he bumps Keith’s shoulder against the wall and almost knocks down a picture frame and Keith is snickering too much to do much of anything.

It’s ten minutes until midnight when Keith hears Lance whispering loudly to get his attention. He spots him standing on the back porch, leaning inside through the back door and waving for him to come over. Keith does his best to subtly slip away from the kitchen, lowering his voice.

“Where have you been? You disappeared on me.”

Lance stifles a laugh, glancing around Keith to make sure no one is watching. “C’mon, we’re going down to the beach.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” Lance huffs, grabbing his hand and tugging him out the door.

Keith feels like a kid, fingers tangled with Lance’s, wind in his hair and sand in his toes as they run down to the shore together, giggling and shushing each other until they’re far away enough from the house that they won’t be heard.

Like a kid who’s a little bit, or a lot, in love.

Because the moon is shining bright, and the air is warm and the waves lap gently against the small shells scattered in the sand but Keith only really cares about the way he can see the stars in Lance’s eyes, and the wind ruffling his hair and the water washing around his ankles after they’ve both rolled up their pants to wade in as far as they can.

“What if your sister and Acxa come out here?” Keith whispers, and maybe he’s clinging to Lance’s hand because he doesn’t want Lance to let go but Lance doesn’t seem to mind.

“I specifically told Veronica that I called the beach,” Lance whispers back, and Keith snorts and Lance pulls him a little further into the water. “For this very reason.”

“The entire beach?”

“Yes, the entire beach, Keith. It’s more romantic that way. It has the best view.”

“View for what?”

“You’ll see. Stop being nosy.”

Keith purses his lips. “Veronica says _you’re_ nosy.”

Lance scoffs. “Am not.”

“Why are we whispering?”

“You started the whispering!”

And Keith starts giggling, honest to god _giggles,_ because his stomach is full and the night is warm and the water is cold and the sand squishes between his toes and Lance’s fingers fit perfectly between his own and he’s miles and miles away from home but he still feels _home._

“Oh my god,” Lance says, but he’s still whispering and it only makes Keith giggle some more so he stumbles a little in the wet, squishy sand and Lance has to reach out to steady him. “Who are you? What have you done with Keith?”

But Keith just ducks his head into Lance’s chest and keeps laughing, and Lance sighs but Keith can hear his smile and feel where his fingers slip through his hair and press him closer.

They splash around in the water for a little while longer after that, and then hold still until it’s just the push and pull of the tide and the stars rippling around their ankles.

“Did you really come all the way here just to see me?” Lance asks at some point, one arm looped around Keith’s waist to keep him close.

Keith shrugs, watching his feet sink into the sand and the current rushing around his toes. “Nah, I just didn’t want to third wheel for Adam and Shiro on their first New Years’ as a newly engaged couple.” Lance lets out an affronted squawk and Keith laughs again, knocking their shoulders together. _“Obviously_ I came to see you.”

Lance kicks at the water again and wiggles his toes. “You didn’t have to, you know. When I said—I didn’t mean for you to feel like you had to—”

“Lance.” Lance winces as Keith twists around to face him, planting his hands on his shoulders. “I wanted to.”

He bites his lip and tries not to smile too much as Lance wraps both arms back around his waist and pulls him just that little bit closer. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Keith hums, letting his eyes drift a little. He thinks he can hear everyone counting down from the house, or maybe it’s some others further down the beach.

_Ten, nine, eight._

“I think it’s almost New Years’,” Lance says.

Keith huffs a laugh. “Yeah?”

_Seven, six, five, four._

“I feel like there’s something we’re supposed to be doing,” Lance continues. “At midnight, specifically.”

_Three, two, one._

“Like this?” Keith murmurs.

And then he leans forward and kisses him, soft and sweet, just as he starts to hear the distant sounds of people cheering and celebrating. He winds his arms further around Lance’s neck, and Lance tightens his around his waist, and Keith lets himself melt against him not unlike the waves melt against them both.

A loud _pop_ and a _bang,_ and they break apart long enough to look up and for Keith to see the first firework cracking against the dark sky in an explosion of color. He watches as it’s followed by a dozen more, and then watches them erupt against the surface of the water in bursts of bright light before smiling back up at Lance, who’s still watching the sky with even brighter eyes. “You brought me out here to see fireworks?” Keith calls over the noise.

Lance scoffs and drops his gaze again to look at him. “I brought you out here to kiss you,” he corrects. _“And_ to see fireworks.”

Keith glances up and watches one more firework go off over head, sparkling and glittering in the dark, and listens to the sound of people cheering further down the shore, and the waves washing against the sand. “Okay, I saw them. I think you should kiss me again.”

And Lance laughs, and kisses him again, until Keith can’t tell if there are actually still fireworks going off above them or if they’re just all in his head. Because he can’t stop smiling, and laughing when Lance scoops him up in both arms and kisses him and kisses him until he thinks Lance could drop him into the water and he wouldn’t even mind.

He wants to say _I love you._ He thinks he will, as he clings to Lance’s neck and Lance presses his lips to the corner of his mouth, and he thinks he will, as he sighs into Lance’s mouth and Lance smiles into the kiss, even though he knows that Lance already knows. He says it anyway, when they finally pull away long enough to breathe.

Lance kisses him again. And if Keith says it again a time or two after that, well. Lance doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Lance murmurs eventually, breath warm and soft on Keith’s skin.

And Keith smiles, and brushes his thumb over Lance’s freckles like the constellations in the sky above them, and thinks: _you’re my home._

_I love you._

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> another quick note: i'm aware that keith meeting lance's family might have felt a little rushed. the only reason i really have for that is that the s7/8 fix it fic that i have in the works has a lot of scenes that center around lance's family and i didn't want to write anything here that i would have a hard time separating from the fix it fic once i've moved on to that.
> 
> ALSO EVERYONE SAY TY [CATO](https://www.ghozting.tumblr.com) FOR THE IDEA FOR LANCE'S "i'm glad you're home" LINE THAT MADE ME CRY
> 
> to clarify, there WILL be one last sort of bonus part that takes place between christmas and new years, BUT i will not be writing it for a while because i have a couple of zine pieces to work on. 
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.taxashi.tumblr.com)! you can also find ways to support me on my blog ♡


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